


Lightning Flowers

by thornswithroses



Series: Witch's Skin [2]
Category: The Craft (1996)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Sex Magic, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornswithroses/pseuds/thornswithroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Manon’s gift,” Nancy said quietly, then more loudly, more earnestly, “Manon is giving us this. Don’t you fucking reject it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> For Femslash February. Loosely based this on the last lines of Margaret Atwood’s “Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing” [x] This is my response (and cure) to the misogynistic second act of the film. I hope you enjoy it. If you have any constructive criticism, feel free to tell me so. I’m happy to hear it. Just be aware that this is only the 2nd part of my series. The 1st part is titled "The Blood of Los Angeles."

Didn’t matter how much money Nancy and her mother had now. There was still this thrumming pleasure throughout her body whenever she played five finger discounts. But only now it got better. She didn’t just steal the generic crap from the drugstore any more these days; much less even enter inside one, oh, no, now she went after the real good stuff, big name brands and all that.

The security guard had stared at Sarah and Nancy when they were walking out, his eyes burning their backs, and Nancy wondered if he could see her hair stick close to her head, slick from sweat. But the alarms didn’t sound. She didn’t hear the man or anyone else yell after them.

Sarah and Nancy had swallowed back snickers and wore their expressions as casual as possible. Nancy didn’t know about Sarah, but she herself had a lot of practice of looking composed. She had to be from having to walk down the school hallways and see all  the faces of all those asshole teachers and students. _Ignore the laughs, ignore the whispers, ignore the stares,_ she would tell herself,  _walk like you just killed someone they loved and they don’t know it yet, keep going, don’t listen.  You can kill them anytime they want. They don’t know that but you do._

So there Nancy and Sarah were. In Nancy’s room,  both of them sitting on the carpet opposite to each other and Nancy tried not to think too hard about how their calves just touched when they both spread their legs open.

Between them were all that they were able to pocket for the day. Oxblood and black and  navy blue nail polish, black lipgloss, cranberry and plum lipsticks, smoky perfume samples, different little palettes for eyes and lips or both. Blacks and grays and silvers and whites for Nancy while Sarah went for dark greens and ambers and browns.

“Chris is boring me,” Sarah said as she studied one eye shadow palette, the case long and lean, fitting well between both hands.

Nancy felt whatever roiled below her belly come forth onto her face, mouth curving like a red-edged scimitar  “Oh? How does he feel about that?”

“I think the spell is fading because I’m getting really sick of him,” Sarah said, her face, as usual, placid, “And he’s getting more irritated with me. Like he knows I have something to do with how he’s been acting, but he is so conflicted, like he hates that he can’t hate me and -” a pause, and then, Sarah’s mouth curved to mirror Nancy’s smirk “- he’s afraid of me.”

Nancy chuckled and the bitterness suddenly washed over her like a predatory sea. “Pathetic. Can’t believe I let him fuck me.”

Sarah’s eyes giant eyes went sharp, “What?”

“I let him fuck me. He kept insisting and I wanted him to like me so fucking much so I let him  and god I was such an idiot. Especially with how he chose to repay for that. Bragged about it to the whole school, fucker even brought some panties that weren’t even mine, and showed them to anyone he could.”

Sarah’s face was a cool mask again, her green eyes chips of ice, and Nancy went on, this time grinning. “You know what was the worst part of it all? It was awful. Like, it took me so long to admit it but he was really lousy in bed. He just flopped up over me like a fish and only lasted, like, two minutes.”

As Nancy expected, Sarah laughed and then she laughed till they both had tears in their eyes.  Sarah even snorted, which only made them laugh even harder.

“I am dumping him tomorrow. I don’t want to fuck a boring fish.” Sarah said and Nancy grinned for a few seconds then her expression faltered.

Sarah immediately sobered up, “What’s wrong?”

Nancy grabbed at her side, face in a strange expression that Sarah couldn’t tell if it was pensive or just in pain, “Manon,” she said and her voice was husky.

Sarah licked her lips, “The lightning from the beach.”

“I got this scar from that night.” Nancy scowled, her piercing eyes looking all the more brighter and paler against the black shadow she wore. “It’s nothing serious,” she added, “It’s not even painful. I,uh,  just-just gets this uncomfortable feeling sometimes.”

“How would you describe it?”

“It’s like there’s this warmth in me and it’s _crinkling_.”

“Crinkling?”

“Like it’s rolling around inside me and it feels like it wants to stretch out and,” Nancy rubbed at her side, ‘It’s been getting bigger. Longer. The scar I mean.”

Sarah studied her quietly then, “Let me look.”

Nancy felt like she wanted to argue but eventually gave in. She crossed her arms and pulled off her shirt. Sarah’s mouth parted slightly as she took in her form. There Nancy sat, spiked collar still on her neck, down to black tights, leather skirt and a black bra that was surprisingly very lacy.

Sarah had seen pictures of lightening scars before. They were just pale pink-red and spreading across the skin in thread-thin branch patterns. Nancy’s was a little different. Hers was darker red, almost bloody in tone, then branching out so red it looked black at the corners and edges. It started at the right side of Nancy’s torso, one end spreading up out over her right shoulder, and the other end curving over below her belly.

Sarah’s logic and all the voices going through her head ( _You need to go to a doctor for that, Why haven’t you gone for help before, Why didn’t you tell us this_ ) didn’t go from her brain to her mouth. Instead, she blurted, “Can I-can I touch it?”

Nancy tried to look as unaffected as possible. “Go ahead.”

Sarah swallowed. She crawled over to Nancy; close enough to see where her eye liner met her eye-shadow, to discern the green from the blue in her pale, pale eyes, to count the lines on her plump mouth. Sarah’s own mouth felt dry as she raised fingertips to Nancy’s skin and with the warmth, the sweet warmth flowing up through her own arm, Sarah sighed and had her whole hand pressed to Nancy’s side.

Sarah closed her eyes and opened them again to find her forehead pressed to Nancy’s.

“Sorry,” was Sarah’s mumbled reply then it didn’t matter who kissed who first, one mouth slotted to the other’s mouth and they were an alchemy there, two women becoming one just for a small eternity.  Sarah trapped Nancy in her arms and Nancy relished the feel of cool skin against her own heated form.

She signed when Sarah experimentally kissed her along her jaw and then her breath caught when Sarah nipped at the shoulder, where the scar branched out.

Sarah was panting a little. “What are we doing?”

“Manon.”

“What?”

“Manon’s gift,” Nancy said quietly, then more loudly, more earnestly, “Manon is giving us this. Don’t fucking reject it.” Her eyes were electric bright and her dark lipstick was kissed away to a more ghostly remnant on her mouth, her black hair snarled in Sarah’s hands.

Sarah was caught between giggling and trembling and all she could do prevent that was to kiss Nancy again and she found she didn’t want to stop. Soon their kissing was teeth and tongues. 

Nancy was on her back on the carpet and Sarah straddled her, her cunt resting just above where the tendril end of the scar curved below her belly and even then she could still feel the heat of it through her panties and it felt so good.

Sarah sighed and Nancy reached up under Sarah’s blouse to cup her breasts, Nancy could feel the nipples through the material and she flicked them, thriving on the noise Sarah made then.

“I-I’ve never done this,” Sarah said quietly and a part of her hoped Nancy wouldn’t hear that.

But she did.

“Neither have I,” was her whisper in response.

“Maybe we can let Manon guide us,” Sarah said and they looked at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing again.

They didn’t go further that night.

They would a week later.

But for this night, all Nancy and Sarah did was go to Nancy’s bed. Sarah would wind up spooning behind Nancy. Sarah’s scar from a suicide interrupted, the scar on the inside of Sarah’s wrist, this scar would  turn redder and that scar, like Nancy’s scar, would start branching out.

She would find it the next morning and startle Nancy with her gasp.

 

 

 


End file.
